


Not Leaving You

by adolescence



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Drabble, Dubious Consent, Ficlet, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, I don't know the terms, M/M, Poor Sam, Pre-Series, Sibling Incest, Wall Sex, haha - Freeform, kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolescence/pseuds/adolescence
Summary: Dean found out about the acceptance letters and wasn't pleased. Why would Sam hide something like that from him?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on tumblr - http://codepenkronk.tumblr.com/post/150653060590/n-o-t-l-e-a-v-i-n-g-y-o-u  
> Haha, I have no idea how to code that, so imma just leave it like that.

Dean had him pinned to the wall, one leg thrown up and around his waist, bruising grip under his thigh, and teeth at his neck, biting, nipping, marking like he owned him. And in every sense of the word, especially in this moment, he did. The only thing that rippled the illusion was the undertone of desperation in the way Dean handled him. Rough and unforgiving, but gripping him like he was afraid Sam would up and disappear, right there.

His brother usually liked to take his time undressing, liked it slow like it meant more to him when they did. But now they half naked (and by half, he meant that he, himself, was stark naked, while Dean had only rolled up the sleeves to his flannel before shoving Sam back into the wall). The anxiety that would expel itself from him, that would just slip away and leave him pliant and malleable to Dean’s experienced hands and calloused fingers, it only got worse and it got to the point where it felt like he couldn’t breathe, and how Dean forced his denim-clad hips into Sam’s bare ones, showing just how much he was getting off on this, it didn’t help.

_“What were you planning, Sam, huh? Were you just gonna leave, no goodbyes, no note, no nothing?”_

There were no words now, not even when Sam got out in little pants, “C’mon, Dean, st-stop, it hurts” but other than the verbal plea, he didn’t try to shove Dean away, so the elder Winchester must have taken that as the go ahead.

Two fingers were already up inside of him after Dean had shoved them into his mouth, barely giving him enough time to get them good and wet. It burned at first, but after a bit - it didn’t go away - Dean just distracted him with a harsh bite to his neck, drawing a sharp gasp from the youngest Winchester.

_“You were just gonna leave me?”_

Another finger was added, fucking up in him quick and precise, scissoring to open him up good and fast. There was a clinking of metal and under the heavy breathing they were both guilty of, there was the unmistakable sound of unzipping. Sam swallowed hard because he was far from ready, and Dean hadn’t even taken his shirt off. “‘M not ready, Dean. Please-”

A hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him and in turn forcing his head back into the wall with a small thud. There was a flash of green, whenever Dean had glanced up at him in that split second of a moment. His pupils were blown and his eyes were dark, the kind of dark Sam had only seen a handful of times. Not even a moment later, Dean was looking away again, burying his face in Sam’s neck, teeth littering his neck and collarbone with bruises and bitemarks.

_“After all we’ve been through, I’m not even worth a lousy goodbye?”_

Sam winced and gasped loudly as Dean pushed inside of him, all of his sounds muffled or swallowed up completely into the palm of Dean’s hand. He didn’t even wait for Sam to adjust, just drove it home until he couldn’t go any deeper. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathed through the pain. Sam clutched at Dean’s sides, at the fabric of his flannel, making fists in the cloth he wished wasn’t there, yet another barrier between them. Sam was naked and bared and completely and utterly Dean’s, he felt exposed and vulnerable for it, and he knew that was exactly what Dean wanted.

Sam all but sobbed into Dean’s hand when he hit that spot inside of him, precome leaking from his own cock, running down his shaft like he was some painslut and any of this had been enjoyable. That generous show must have been a heated mistake because after that, Dean avoided it at all costs; hitting near it, grazing it, but never getting it just right, like his own form of torture.

Joke’s on him - this entire situation, the loveless bites and harsh thrusts, the way Dean wouldn’t even bother to look at him - it was all torture enough.

Dean pumped his hips harder and faster, and the pain faded - or maybe he was getting used to it; the unforgiving pace, the uncomfortable drag of denim along the underside of his hard, sensitive cock. Maybe it was all just blending together. Whatever the case may be, Sam was grateful for it.

His sounds got weaker after awhile, but the way Dean was fucking him didn’t. That was all this was - a fuck. Like he was some chick Dean picked up in a bar and they were screwing in one of the bathroom stalls. Nothing more, nothing less. As if to prove him right, Dean started picking up a blinding pace, one that made Sam burn and ache all over.

He was close, so close, and he refused to put a hand on Sam’s cock to get him there, too. When Sam reached down to hurry himself along, just a couple tugs would do it, Dean’s hand left Sam’s mouth and grabbed Sam’s hand instead, pinning it to the wall. “Dean-” The eldest Winchester cut him off again, elbow painfully pressing in the center of Sam’s wrist to keep it pinned to the wall, flattening his arm out to cover Sam’s mouth with his hand once again.

Dean kept pumping his hips so hard it knocked staccato noises out of Sam each and every time, so fast that Sam knew Dean was going to lose it any second -

Sam winced, feeling empty and achy when Dean abruptly pulled out of him. He dropped his leg and it dropped like a dead weight, flat footed, to the floor. Sam looked down in between them, saw Dean jerking his cock, but he couldn’t register anything - still in a pain and arousal induced haze. Sam wanted to wrap a hand around his own cock, but he knew Dean wouldn’t let him. It was barely a moment later that Sam felt it. Come, hot and sticky, splashing against his stomach, going as far as his chest in one instance. The groan Dean let out was guttural and low, right under Sam’s ear as he collapsed into him, riding out the waves.

Before Dean had even come down from the high - who would so quick? - he pulled away from Sam completely, hand and all. Sam hadn’t realized how much he had been depending on Dean to keep him upright because as soon as he had control of his limbs again, he fell on his sore, raw little ass with a pathetic whimper of. “D-Dean.”

His cock was still hard and heavy between his legs, rubbed raw from Dean’s jeans, and come was running down his front. He had the overwhelming feeling of being used. He looked up at Dean, who was faced half away from him, tucking himself away in his jeans and zipping them back up. As he rebuckled his belt, Dean finally looked at him.

It was short lived.

Dean glanced down at Sam’s come-stained stomach like he felt bad, felt regret, but it quickly changed to how one would look at used up whore and then looked away. “Go clean yourself up.”

With his cheeks burning in shame, and come dripping down his torso, Sam did what he was supposed to, and with the dignity he didn’t have left he followed Dean’s order’s like the good little brother he really wasn’t, and limped to the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> _And with that last sentence, [adolescence] sealed her fate._
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _She was most definitely going to Hell._  
> 


End file.
